For Reasons Unknown
by veggiegirl666
Summary: After leaving for a few months, Sherlock Holmes comes back to London to learn that John has been living quietly with his wife and now two month old daughter. Of course, that's completely unacceptable! JohnLock, possible hints of Mystrade.
1. Chapter 1

_**For Reasons Unknown**_

**Author Notes: This short story is based on the show, but I'm currently reading the books, so I apologize if I accidentally mix up any facts. Also another apology if spelling and/or grammar is not perfect, because nothing really is. **

**John/Sherlock, please no hate! Constructive criticism always welcome! **

**Chapter One**

The cool autumn breeze pressed heavily onto the window pane and brought wet, golden leaves about with it to stick to the glass. The wails of the small child, woken by the clapping thunder of the storm that was just beginning to pass, could be heard from practically a thousand miles away, or at least so it seemed. Mary and I had been desperately trying to get her to calm down any way possible. We tried feeding her, playing with her, rocking her softly, Mary tried singing to her, hell, and I even tried singing to her! It seemed that this month old baby was going to be crying the rest of her life.

A knock on the door startled me back into reality, and the baby screamed even louder now. I rose quickly out of my seat and jogged to the door.

I opened it up, not sure completely whom to expect to see, but was very surprised and delighted to have been greeted by my favorite consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes!

"Good God, John, what is that awful sound? Surely it's not coming from inside your home?" I stared at him, incredulously. "I'm only joking, obviously. Of course it's from inside your nursery. Which reminds me, why didn't you notify me of the birth of your child?"

I was so in shock it took me a moment to process his question. "Are you kidding, Sherlock?"

"No, in fact, that was no joke. I was being completely serious."

I flicked him on the chest. "That was your own fault, you fool, and you bloody know it! Where have you been the past two months?"

I detected a slight smile as it graced his lips. "Why, John Watson, did you miss me?"

I couldn't help it. I broke out laughing, as well as Sherlock. We hugged, and I ushered him in. "Don't think you're getting away that easily, Sherlock. You must tell me where you've been, but that can wait for later."

"Yes, it must," he agreed. "But for now, do let me see the baby." I nodded my head, and led him into the baby's room. I knocked quietly, so as not to disturb the little girl, who was now beginning to cheer up.

Mary looked up, and grinned. "Why, long time, no see!" She exclaimed.

"Can I hold her?" Sherlock pointed to the baby.

"Well, yeah, sure. Just be careful, please. Make sure to hold her head-"

"I'm perfectly aware of the correct way in which to hold an infant, Mary, thank you."

Sherlock gently took my child from my wife's hands, and sat down on the floor, with his legs crossed. Mary and I watched as he let our daughter grab his finger and hold on tightly. She had completely stopped crying now, and her mouth was open wide, almost in a smile. "Her name is?" Sherlock asked.

"Jerry," I responded.

He looked at me curiously. "And you were worried about Sherlock not being a girl's name?"

I was about to respond, but Mary began to talk before I could. "Didn't John tell you? Her middle name is Sherlock."

John shot a puzzled glance at me, and quickly looked away. My face quickly got red.

Mary giggled. "Jerry Sherlock Watson. With a name like that, I guess she must be destined for greatness!"

Sherlock nodded and kissed the child's hand in a surprisingly fond manner. I had known Sherlock for quite some time now, but I believed this to be the first time I had ever seen him with a baby, but he was very gentle, and had a happy grin on his face. I couldn't help but smile as well. The scene was a very charming one, indeed.

After a few moments of a blissful (mostly) silence, Sherlock handed the baby back to Mary. "She's very cute," he tells her, and then he leans in closely to her, "I know she didn't get that from John."

I decided it best to completely disregard that last statement. "So, Sherlock, how about dinner tonight? Would you like to stay?"

"Well, as long as you're not cooking I don't see why I shouldn't." He flashed a quick, brilliantly terrifying smile my way. "Afterwards," he continued, "Would it be alright, Mary, if John came back with me to Baker Street for a few hours? I have a visitor showing up that does seem quite peculiar, I'm sure John would love to see my work in action once more."

Mary nodded her head. "Just you too don't have too much fun, alright? That hardly seems fair."

And so it was. After the baby was fed, burped and cleaned up Mary and I were able to get her to sleep, and despite Sherlock's objections, we made dinner a joint effort.

Mary was recently on a health kick, so our meal consisted of a large salad, and she insisted on only keeping oil-based dressings in the house. I had cooked a (healthy) veggie spaghetti, and wheat bread was served. Although I didn't exactly enjoy the meal, neither my wife nor my friend seemed in anyway displeased.

I quickly helped to clean up after dinner so as to not upset my wife. Sherlock had walked to my home, but as it was nighttime I called a cab, and we left the home quickly. The drive there was basically silent, but as we were ascending the stairs I tried to make conversation.

"So, what story have you heard from this newest client?"

Sherlock completely ignored the question and responded quickly with an inquiry of his own.

"Why did you name your daughter after me?"

My face once again began to blush, and I was glad Sherlock could not see my face. "I… you asked me to! You were very insistent that you at least got in a middle name!"

"Dear Watson, I know you know I was just joking about that matter. Not to say I'm not flattered, I really am, I just can't quite figure out your motive about the matter."

"Ha!" I say. "You've been around me how long? You must know my every thought by now!" As I said this, I could not conceal from myself the truth of that statement, and a slight dread ran through me. But, at the same time, I considered how much simpler everything could be if Sherlock was a mind reader.

He we reached the top of the stairs, and Sherlock turned around suddenly. "You're blushing! Why are you blushing?" I gulped. Sherlock had stopped so suddenly I had no time to back up, and ran a risk of falling backward. My eyes were about level with Sherlock's lips, and the tension had suddenly gotten very strong. For whatever reason, I couldn't take my eyes off of those lips. They were thinner than Mary's, but naturally pinker. I tried to control my thoughts, but in the very back of my head… No. Nevermind.

One second, two, three, four… Finally, Sherlock seemed to feel the sudden strangeness and backed away.

"I'm sorry for that," he confessed, with a hint of uneasiness in his voice. He grabbed into his pocket and found his key. His hands almost seemed shaky as he twisted the key and opened the door.

The time between this and the arrival of the potential client ran quite quiet and awkwardly. I must note that I did not miss the constant smell of strange chemicals. Sherlock began clinking test tubes together almost immediately after letting us in, humming softly the entire time. I didn't do much, but I was sure to do a quick scan of the house to ensure there were no drugs nearby. I was aware that Molly had previously been forcing Sherlock to monthly take drug tests, but he had been missing the past two months, and with Mr. Holmes, one could never be too careful.

I found one syringe in the bathroom, but I felt no immediate reason to be alarmed, as Sherlock's peculiar pastimes could sometimes involve syringes for less destructive reasons.

It had seemed to me like an eternity before I had finally heard a slight tapping on the door. Sherlock was too focused on his work too even look up, so I got the door for him. The man at the door was far from what I had expected to see, although I admit I had little to nothing to go on. He was young, possibly early twenties, and he was incredibly… large, and not the most hygienic. He appeared to be the stereotypical college gamer with no social skills and questionable porn habits. Nonetheless, I motioned for him to step inside, and got Sherlock's attention.

"Um, Sherlock," I said, tapping him on the shoulder. "Is this actually the guy we're waiting for? He looks… surprisingly ordinary to me."

Sherlock set his chemicals down and looked to me. "He's a hacker," he explained quickly. Then, turning toward our newest client, "Sit down in the chair."

And so, Sherlock did what he did best, with me by his side. Within two days, the case was closed, and no one was harmed.

Sherlock began stopping in at my place more often than usual. Sometimes with a new case, sometimes with a severe and life-threatening case of boredom. He was lucky that Mary was such a kind wife. Having Sherlock around was almost like adopting a second child. If he wasn't watched closely, he was bound to get into trouble. Sherlock would be making phone calls to drug dealers one moment, and the next he'd be stealing human fingers and limbs from god knows where, and wanting them stored in my home!

Despite all this, life was seemingly great. Jerry was growing quickly, and Sherlock was surprisingly fond of her. Of course 3 month old babies can't really do much, but Sherlock still enjoyed playing with her and her stuffed animals. I had a strange feeling that he was using her as a means of study, but he wasn't harming her in any way, and he gave Mary and I some much needed break time.

**Okay, thoughts? I'm thinking of maybe having this story be four chapters long, and did you notice the awkward little fluffy part? Expect more, and then I promise it'll eventually be followed up by romancey romance stuff and then maybe a citrusy scence as well.**

**Do NOT expect quick updates.**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Maybe eventually I'll form a plotline.**_

* * *

**Chapter 2: **

Things were getting, well, stale, between Mary and I. This obviously saddened me, but besides that, life was alright. Mary had gotten herself a new job working nights, and I've been working steadily at the hospital. Jerry was now six months old! But I had been feeling more and more depressed lately.

I'm not really quite sure why, but Sherlock has been coming over basically every night. Some nights he evens sleeps over. He never bothers with pajamas, he just curls up in my bed or on the couch in his usual tucked in shirts with his rolled up sleeves. I'll have to wake him up before Mary comes home so that she doesn't have to sleep on the floor, or even worse, she gets the wrong idea about me and him.

Because of Sherlock, I've barely gotten any sleep lately. If he's not at my home, watching television and playing with the child, then we were together solving crimes all night. Even on the quiet nights he kept me awake. Just him being next to me in bed felt so… strange. I just don't feel tired around him.

Anyway, things went from strange, to just unimaginable pretty quickly. It started with a fight.

"John, really? You've called for a babysitter three times this week! Why can't you just stay at home for once?"

To be completely honest with myself, I think I deserved this. I hadn't been telling Mary about all of the time I'd been spending with Sherlock lately, and this week it'd cost a totally of sixty quid. I sat and listened as she rambled on.

"You have a daughter now, John! You can't just run around solving crimes all the time with Sherlock! Don't you even feel bad about it? Leaving your kid like that, for him?"

_Well, jeez, _I thought to myself, _it sounds like she's marrying us off._

"I've told Marissa not to come here anymore unless I verify it. I'm okay with Sherlock coming over here whenever he wishes, but John, you have to be mature about this! Alright?"

I nodded my head in acceptance. "Alright. I understand completely."

_Sherlock won't. _

Mary seemed pleased with my response and didn't press much more on the subject, until Sherlock showed up, approximately 10 minutes later.

Sherlock hadn't been bothering himself with knocking lately and I hadn't been bothering myself with arguing over it. He strode into the living room happily and sat down on the couch next to me. He smiled. "So, Watson, how about we go out on a case-"

"Ah, hell nah!" Mary screamed. I winced. "Sherlock," Mary continued, "Could you just go home?"

I stood up. "No, Sherlock, don't go home."

Mary looked genuinely shocked. "No. No, no, no! This is not happening. I'm your wife, for Christ's sake!"

"Um," Sherlock chimed in, "maybe I should just…"

"No!" I said. "You're perfectly fine here, please don't go."

Mary was staring at me intensely, her entire body was shaking. "Why don't you both go?" she said at last. I was about to protest, possibly to tell her to leave, or something else incredibly stupid, but Sherlock stopped me.

"John, how about we just go?"

I sighed. He was absolutely right. Mary was angry, and alone time was probably the best thing for her.

"well, c'mon then, I guess. See you tomorrow, honey."

I walked out the door without looking back at her. I sat down on the steps and ran my hands through my hair as I waited for Sherlock to come outside. Why was everything so… strange lately?

Sherlock grabbed a cab and we set off for 221b Baker Street. "I thought we were going on a case?" I asked.

"You don't really seem up for it right now. It wouldn't be any fun if you weren't enjoying yourself."

I laughed out loud. "you've never felt that way before…"

Sherlock became silent the rest of the way to the flat. I wished I could hear what he was thinking. Sherlock's face was always so composed and hard. _What was he thinking?_

As we got out of the car, Sherlock stopped and stared at the door for a few brief moments before walking in. It was the knocker.

We walked up the stairs quickly and into what used to be _our _flat. And there was Mycroft, sitting in Sherlock's chair, umbrella in hand.

He smiled. "I had a feeling you'd be here, Dr. Watson."

"Anything you can say to me can be said to John as well," Sherlock said.

"Oh, no! You're mistaken! I actually just wanted to talk to John, privately."

Sherlock and I appeared to be equally confused. We looked to each other, then back to Mycroft. "Why?" we both asked at last.

Mycroft scowled, and twirled his umbrella around in his hand. Sherlock looked over at me, as if he thought I actually knew what was going on, but I of course had no clue what was happening.

"That's none of your business, little brother," Mycroft stated, a smug grin forming from his lips. "Now, let me talk to John, alone. Shoo. Bye-bye!"

To my surprise, Sherlock actually nodded his head and left the home. I stared at the door in amazement for a few seconds, before actually turning around to look at the man that had wanted to talk to me.

Mycroft watched as I sat down in my usual chair. I stared at him blankly for a few moments, waiting for him to initiate whatever conversation he was planning to start. After a while it began to feel awkward, so I coughed and began to speak.

"So, uhh, Mycroft? What was it that you wanted?"

He continued to smile his strange, disturbing smile. "John, you like him, don't you?"

I gulped. I knew somehow who he was talking about. It was Sherlock, but I decided to play dumb. I suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable. "Who are you taking about, Mycroft?"

He laughed menacingly. "I can read right through you John. And Sherlock as well. And, as his older brother, I can tell you that Sherlock's going through a rather large emotional dilemma at the current moment, and, to be frank… I'd like you to be with him. Romantically."

My jaw dropped. "Uhm, that doesn't make any sense. Mycroft, I'm married, and I have a kid. Why would I just leave them for Sherlock, I'm not gay."

Mycroft stared back at me once again, his smile was making me feel strangely bare and exposed. _Goddammit, how does he do it?_

I felt like I was going to cry suddenly. Mycroft was still staring at me, his grin appearing to be larger and larger. Like it was filling up the entire room. I couldn't look away. I felt sick. My stomach was flipped upside down and my heart was bursting out of my ribs. Finally, I gave in.

"Okay! Okay, I think I might actually have feelings for Sherlock, but I can't okay?! I can't!"

Mycroft nodded his head. "I knew you did, John. And now you know as well. Let's see what happens now. I'll be leaving."

And so Mycroft got up and left the room. I put my face in my hands and sighed. _Why had this happened? Why had he said that to Mycroft? Just… No._

"John? Are you alright? What exactly was that all about?"

I looked up, and saw Sherlock sitting in his chair. I hadn't even noticed him enter the room. Seeing him now felt… Different, somehow.

"Well, why don't you tell me?" I asked.

Sherlock looked at me questioningly. "Well," he said at last. "That's just the thing. I don't know."

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**Well… Do you like? Not as much effort was put into this chapter as the last one, and it definitely wasn't as cute, but I promise the next chapter will be full of angst and lots of fluffy awkwardness, okay? Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

***Voice drips heavy sarcasm* Thanks for reviewing the last chapter guys, I feel so loved.**

**Chapter 3:**

I had fallen asleep in my chair at Baker Street. I was so exhausted that I didn't even realize I was exhausted! Sherlock spent hours playing the violin and I spent that time on his laptop, scrolling through Facebook and looking at those adorable cat videos on YouTube.

But, when I woke up, I wasn't in the chair anymore. I wasn't sure how, or why, but I was in Sherlock's bed! I looked over at his alarm clock. It was 2 am. Sherlock was sleeping peacefully beside me, his skinny body radiating a large amount of heat. His brown curls appeared to be slightly damp from sweat. I wasn't sure what was going on, but I knew for a fact that waking Sherlock would be a terrible idea, so I didn't get up, but I wasn't tired.

_Did Sherlock bring me in here? _An image flashed through my head of Sherlock carrying my sleeping body into his bead and covering me up. It didn't look right. I was pretty sure his frail arms weren't that strong!

A smile appeared on my face. I really don't know why, but I leaned in closer and I placed my lips softly on Sherlock's forehead before closing my eyes and pretending to be asleep.

The next time I woke up, I was surprised to find arms wrapped around my torso. Sherlock's face was close to mine, and I could feel his steady breath flowing against my neck. I hadn't noticed before, but he was shirtless. I've seen Sherlock shirtless before,- Shit, I've seen him completely naked before, but I'd never been so close to him before.

As I was thinking, I noticed the clock out of the corner of my eyes. _Oh, SHITSHITSHITSHIT. I'll never make it to work on time!_

"Sherlock, Sherlock, wake up!" I shook him, and his eyes fluttered open. He noticed the awkward position we were in and, startled, backed away. "S… Sorry, John. I don't know what happened…"

"It's alright, Sherlock. But I'm about to be late for work! I have to-"

Sherlock stopped me. "Oh, I probably should have mentioned, I called in for you. You've got the day off now."

I stared. "Sherlock, why would you…?"

"Well," he explained. "You were pretty exhausted last night, and I've deduced by the way you were tapping your hands last night and the sweat lightly coating your skin that you were incredibly stressed. So I did you a favor."

I nodded my head. "Well, uh, thanks, Sherlock…"

He looked down. "Uhh.. John, I'm sorry about a minute ago, I didn't mean to, you know, cuddle…"

"Oh! That's fine. Really."

Sherlock's cheeks were blushing bright crimson. "Don't be embarrassed!" I continued. "Everyone does strange things subconsciously while they're sleeping."

Sherlock sat up in the bed and rubbed his eyes drowsily. "Yeah, I suppose they do," he said. As he was talking, I couldn't help but notice his long, slender torso was bare and directly in my face. My pulse began to quicken as I found myself unable to look elsewhere. My mind shifted back to the conversation I had had with Mycroft Holmes… It almost felt like a dream now, really…

_"John, you like him, don't you?"_

_I gulped. I knew somehow who he was talking about. It was Sherlock, but I decided to play dumb. I suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable. "Who are you taking about, Mycroft?"_

_He laughed menacingly. "I can read right through you John. And Sherlock as well. And, as his older brother, I can tell you that Sherlock's going through a rather large emotional dilemma at the current moment, and, to be frank… I'd like you to be with him. Romantically."_

_My jaw dropped. "Uhm, that doesn't make any sense. Mycroft, I'm married, and I have a kid. Why would I just leave them for Sherlock, I'm not gay."_

_Mycroft stared back at me once again, his smile was making me feel strangely bare and exposed. Goddammit, how does he do it?_

_I felt like I was going to cry suddenly. Mycroft was still staring at me, his grin appearing to be larger and larger. Like it was filling up the entire room. I couldn't look away. I felt sick. My stomach was flipped upside down and my heart was bursting out of my ribs. Finally, I gave in._

_"Okay! Okay, I think I might actually have feelings for Sherlock, but I can't okay?! I can't!"_

_Mycroft nodded his head. "I knew you did, John. And now you know as well. Let's see what happens now. I'll be leaving."_

I couldn't believe I had actually _said _that. That I… had feelings for Sherlock? And, Mycroft wanted us to be a couple? What?

"So, Um, what should we do today?" I asked. "I'm not really sure if Mary wants to see me yet.."

Sherlock pushed his sheets away and, I noticed that _he was completely naked. _I was sleeping next to Sherlock _and he was naked!_

"Um, Sherlock, where are your clothes?!"

Sherlock didn't seemed fazed whatsoever by my exasperated expression.

"I don't like to sleep with clothes on, John, you should know that."

I shook my head. "But, yeah… Sherlock! It's kinda weird to be naked, in bed, with your ex-flatmate, don't you think?"

Sherlock considered this for a moment. "Well, maybe yes, but we're so close, I don't see what it matters."

And with that said, Sherlock got up out of bed and began rummaging through his dresser until he found all the clothing items he needed.

I was sure to look away after he got up, but I got a slight glimpse of his ass, and, although I looked away immediately, I found myself… unusually aroused.

_Goddammit John, what's wrong with you? You're married!_

My cheeks grew red hot, along with another part of my body as well. I didn't notice that Sherlock had turned around and was looking at me. "John, are you alright?" he asked.

"Ahh! Yeah, just fine. Nothing's the matter, why?"

Sherlock stared questioningly before responding. "Well, you're being rather strange. Do you need anything?"

"No! No, I'm fine, actually!"

I was totally taken aback when Sherlock sat down again on the bed next to me.

"Why are you nervous, John? And don't lie, I know when you're lying."

My mouth formed a perfect O shape as I attempted, to no avail, to form words. Obviously I couldn't tell him I had a hard on! But I couldn't lie, either! "Sherlock, I'd really rather not talk about it. Just Mary…"

Sherlock rolled his eyes impatiently. "John, I said not to lie."

"Well, I'd rather not tell you, okay?"

"I just don't see what the big deal could possibly be, you said yourself that we're best friends and you don't normally keep secrets from me, do you? Just tell me, John, you know I'm no good with-"

I interrupted him, "Sherlock, can we not…"

"No! I must know what-"

"You really don't need to know…"

"No! Just explain to me-"

"I don't want to! Just get over-"

"John, no, I'm really rather curious-"

"Just shut up, Sherlock!"

"John, just tell me what's going on or I swear I'll hide a dead body in your pantry next time the opportunity arises-"

"_I have a boner, alright? Now will you just get the fuck over it?!"_

It suddenly got very quiet, and it seemed that even Sherlock, the seemingly all-knowing Sherlock, was surprised at my sudden outbreak. Hell, I was surprised. I wasn't sure what to say. Sherlock wasn't saying anything. Why was it so awkward? Guys get boners all the time, what difference does it make why?

"I'm, uh, sorry, Sherlock, okay?"

It took a moment for Sherlock to conceive a response. "Uhm, John… can I ask… why?"

I just wanted to run out of that room, out of that building. I was so nervous, I was afraid I might actually through up all over the place. I was married, I had a daughter, but, _Sherlock._

"I don't really know." I said.

Another awkward pause ensued. _Should I say something else? Goddammit, what is Sherlock thinking?_

"Well, John, _do you like me?"_

**Soo… Stuff happened. Opinion? Is the storyline going too fast, do you think? Are you guys okay with the next chapter being all xxx slash lemony?**

**PLEASE review.**


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